Confession
by Arukewari
Summary: "And I knew - with the certainty that comes with the threat of death hanging over one's head - that the one thing I would regret most is never telling you how much I love you." Edward is diagnosed with leukaemia and sends one last letter to Jasper. Edward /Jasper AH


_**Edward POV**_

The day I was diagnosed with leukaemia, my mother set the Christmas pudding on fire.

In a way, I was thankful. The risk of burning to death on Christmas Eve put my life-threatening disease into perspective. At least I wouldn't be dying _tonight_.

"Edward?" my mom knocked on the hospital door and cracked it open. I rolled my eyes at her question tone. Who else would it be?

"Hey mom," I said, putting 'A Clockwork Orange' down by the bedside table.

"How are you feeling?"

"Alright considering I've puked out what's left of my gut a few hours ago," I joked, trying to put her at ease. Sometimes, my parents took my incapacitated state harder than I did. At least I was undergoing therapy, taking my drugs, sleeping properly and fighting this disease with my entire being so that no matter who won, at least I gave it my goddamn best.

My mom made me food I couldn't keep down and my dad ordered around doctors who weren't even in his department.

"Where's dad?" I asked.

"He went to talk to the Head of Oncology with a few questions," she said, opening the blinds. "Don't look at me like that, you know he's trying his best not to interfere but that's hard when it's your only son."

I sighed. "I know, sorry."

I perked up as I saw my mom take out a stash of lined paper and large envelopes.

"Here you go darling," she smiled. Although slumped down with fatigue, my mom could still smile with true happiness. I hoped that would never change.

"Thanks."

My dad showed up a couple of minutes later and we chatted about inconsequential things: the Italian restaurant that had opened three blocks down, the offers my twin sister Alice had received from various Ivy League universities, the dinner my parents were going to in a few days. With conscious effort, we kept the conversation away from the 'Edward-Cullen-is-dying-pity-manifesto'.

Soon, they left, leaving me alone with a stack of white paper.

I clicked my pen and rolled the makeshift table towards me. I didn't know what I was going to write, but I knew who the letters were for.

Jasper Hale.

My one-sided crush, and now – I was beginning to realise – possibly the love of my sweet, brief life.

_Dear Jasper, _I began.

Soon my pen was scrawling across the entire expanse of that smooth white page and I was writing my last words.

I didn't reread it. I didn't need to. I had no intention of sending the letter and the feelings that had poured down onto the page had left me raw and bare, like a healing, pink wound.

I folded the letter, slipping it into an envelope. Alice would have something to say about my cowardice, even at death's door but how would Jasper feel, receiving the letter of some dying classmate? I didn't want to make him perplexed or guilty, and a small part of me – one with a spark of rapidly extinguishing hope – didn't want him to love me back if I were to die before he even received the letter. Because really, who knew how my body would react to the new, stronger cycle of treatment?

I lay back down, always lethargic. Even with the sun streaming through the blinds, I felt my eyelids dropping and soon I was asleep.

* * *

_**Jasper's POV**_

"Dude, Jasper, get your arse down here," Emmett hollered from the kitchen and I groaned.

"Fuck you," I yelled back. "It's 8 in the frigging morning."

I shoved my head under the pillow but it was too late. Efforts from shouting had snatched away my last hope for a lay-in.

"Fuck you," I repeated, my words muffled by my bed.

I rolled out of bed and shoved my bangs away. Stupid, fucking Emmett. If he was going to stay the night and do inappropriate things to my sister, the least he could do was be more subtle about it. Seriously, I could be much more un-accepting of their relationship and if Rosalie wouldn't scratch my eyes out with her manicured fingernails, I would tell him so.

The moment I stepped out into the kitchen, Emmett started wolf-whistling with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"What?" I asked Rosalie, who sat on a high-stool.

"He's just being immature because – "

"A love letter arrived for you today!" he explained, interrupting his girlfriend with a glare.

"What?" I repeated, this time with a laugh. It was too early for food so I just dropped into the last available chair.

"Some girl named Alice?" Emmett said. He fished under the stack of mail and presented it to me with a flourish. I was surprised he didn't add a '_ta da'_.

"Did you read it?"

"No of course not," Emmett said, his attempt at looking affronted somewhat lessened by the masticated cereals in his mouth. "Why, _is_ it a love letter?"

I rolled my eyes. "How would I know? I haven't read it yet."

"Well, open it."

"Hm," I deliberated with a teasing grin. Leaning back so that the chair balanced on two legs, I rubbed my chin. "I don't know if I want to read it right now."

Emmett narrowed his eyes. "You're an arse."

"I learned from the best," I said and immediately regretted it as Rosalie stopped eating to glare at me.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, nothing."

Rosalie harrumphed. I shared a look with Emmett that clearly said 'crisis-averted' and chuckled.

Picking up the envelope, I flipped it over in my hands. Seeing the name, I let my chair drop back to balancing on 4 legs.

Cullen. I definitely recognised that name.

"What is it?" Emmett asked.

"Nothing," I answered – a little too quickly perhaps, judging from the looks the pair were giving me. "You guys go shopping for the party tonight without me."

"Seriously?"

"Just buy a shit-load of alcohol. It's not rocket-science."

With those words, I rushed back to my room and closed the door behind me. Slumping against the wood, I let my legs give way and slid until I was sitting cross-legged.

A small slip of paper fell out.

_My brother didn't want to send you this but I thought you should know._

I frowned. Placing it in front of me, I removed the letter from the envelope and carefully opened it.

_Dear Jasper, _the letter began.

I immediately recognized Edward's writing, something I didn't think I would ever see again.

_You probably don't remember me. Hell, I wouldn't remember me either if I was captain of the varsity soccer team and Prom King. My name is Edward Cullen and I sat behind you for 4 years worth of chemistry class and admired you during every single one of your games, even the practise match you had against Greene High School. _

_You may be wondering why I'm writing you this letter. The thing is, since the last time I saw you at the graduation party, I was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. Anyway, I went to a couple of group therapy sessions at the insistence of overbearing but fantastic parents, and was asked "what would you regret the most, if you were to die here, today?"_

_And I knew, with the certainty that comes with the threat of death hanging over one's head, that the one thing I would regret most is never telling you how I felt, feel for you. So here it is. _

_I have loved you – heart-wrenchingly, inexplicably, adored you – since that moment you transferred into my high school until this moment now with my pen writing these words. In fact, I know that I will sigh my last breath, loving you. _

_We never spoke, although you did apologize once for bumping into my locker, and yet somehow, I fell deeply and truly and utterly. _

_We will probably never meet, so I will take this opportunity to wish you happiness no matter what you end up doing and love no matter who you end up with. _

_Love always, _

_Edward Cullen_

My fingers dug into my palm until they were close to breaking skin. As though I had misunderstood during my first read, my gaze was pulled back to the top of the page and I reread the letter.

And again.

It couldn't be. Not Edward who had been the only one to ever beat Rosalie's GPA, not Edward who had showed up to that practise game up north and had sat in the shade cheering me to win without ever uttering a single word, not Edward who had thrown himself in front of a veering car to shove Bella out of the way.

Impossible.

There was no way.

I stared at the page, too shocked to even cry, or choke or get angry. It was like being – unexpectedly – whacked over the head.

No way in hell.

Not Edward.

I opened the envelope, even ripped it apart, but there was nothing else. No '_just kidding_' or _'gotcha_'. Then again, Emmett would never be cruel enough to send me a letter from the crush I had admitted to during a drunken session of 'truth or dare'.

I took Alice's short introduction and flipped it over. Behind it, it read,

_Just in case: _

_The Johns Hopkins Hospital, 1800 Orleans St, Baltimore, MD 21287_


End file.
